


Overture

by scrub456



Series: Reversal [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF John Watson, Canon Divergence - A Study in Pink, First Meetings, Gen, John Watson is a BAMF and Mycroft Holmes knows it, Mycroft IS the British Government, Mycroft's Meddling, Mycroft's Umbrella, POV Mycroft Holmes, Reichenbach Reversal, laying the groundwork, mention Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6809866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Oh yes. He hasn't gotten what he originally wanted, an informant, no. But there is potential for so much more. Captain John H. Watson could prove to be very useful indeed. He is now an asset to be obtained. And Mycroft is never denied.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>A prologue, of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts), [Dodoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodoa/gifts).



> **OVERTURE** \- _an opening or initiating move toward negotiations, a new relationship, an agreement, etc.; a formal or informal proposal or offer._
> 
>  
> 
> ********************  
> If this "prologue" looks familiar, that's because it actually first appeared as [A Study in Control](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6737635/chapters/15540976), or chapter seven of the collection [Control](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6737635/chapters/15398869) I'm writing with [notjustmom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom).
> 
> Also, with the addition of this piece at the beginning of the [Reversal](http://archiveofourown.org/series/428896) series, I had to tweak the opening few paragraphs of [Lazarus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6325078) just a bit. If you've already read it, the changes have no effect on the outcome of the story at all.
> 
> And I'm gifting this to notjustmom and [Dodoa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dodoa/pseuds/Dodoa) because they're amazing, and talented, and they said nice things about this little piece.

Mycroft Holmes is nothing if he is not in control, and he has been in control of this situation since the moment the invalided military man who is also a physician  ( _Sherlock got it wrong when he called him an army doctor; Mycroft's seen the service records. But Captain Watson hadn't corrected him, and isn't_ that _just fascinating?_ ) walked into Saint Bartholomew’s pathology lab.

When the forgettable middle aged woman in the drab jumper and sensible loafers arrived at 221 Baker Street, representing _The Heritage of London Trust,_ and offering a substantial monthly stipend in exchange for continuing to maintain and _preserve_ the rooms (though the question of their vitality in understanding the recorded history of the city was never addressed), it was Mycroft exercising his control. Though the elderly landlady adores his brother, there is only so far she can discount the rent without the added support. 

And then there is Sherlock himself. It will only be a matter of time before _little brother_ will grow bored with his new acquisition. He'll forget about him, leave him, or cast him off. Mycroft never _could_ control Sherlock's irrational, erratic behavior, but he recognizes the patterns. When Sherlock left Doctor Watson alone at the crime scene, Mycroft was waiting.

A little manipulation -- the ringing phones and cameras always work, especially on those fighting daily battles with paranoia and distrust. He had so hoped the doctor would be different. He has yet to be disappointed. 

And now the man is standing, _standing,_ (ah, a strategist, then) mere paces away from Mycroft. He should be terrified, they're always terrified. But there is no terror. 

Irritation. This meeting is an inconvenience, though Mycroft is absolutely aware Doctor Watson has no social calendar to speak of. 

Distrust. Anyone who says they trust Mycroft Holmes completely is not to be trusted, by Mycroft's own admission. The doctor is demonstrating remarkable judgment in not trusting him at the moment.

Anger. Doctor Watson is not a man who often allows himself to be put into situations where he has no control at all. He feels he has lost his grip on this situation now that Mycroft has started revealing his secrets. What he doesn't seem to realize is that by not cowering and bowing to Mycroft's will, Doctor Watson has rather unassumingly, and quite disarmingly, stolen more than a little bit of the control of this meeting away from the most dangerous man he will ever meet.

Mycroft realizes the disparity as he examines Doctor Watson's left hand. He must not let his disquiet be seen. He turns his back to the doctor, takes a few steps, and assumes his most omniscient tone (the tone that has stopped in their tracks countless men in ranks more auspicious than Captain Watson, late of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, could ever dream of achieving).

"Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield." He's recovered himself now, and ready to go in for the kill. "You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?"

"What’s wrong with my hand?" Doctor Watson eyes him warily, and ignores the condescending speech. Once again this common man with the stellar record and the slightly above average intellect up ends Mycroft's attack approach.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks it’s post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you’re haunted by memories of your military service."

There. A chink the armor. The former military man flinches as if he's standing in front of an actual firing squad. He recovers himself admirably, but not before Mycroft notices the way his eyes fix not on him, but some distant point. There's a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Mycroft smirks, he's won this round. 

He's not prepared for the return fire. He should be. It's one of three logical responses. It's not the one he expected though, and that makes the man before him dangerous. Intriguing.

"Who the hell are you? How do you know that?" The doctor rages. By this point, everyone Mycroft's ever run this protocol on has given up the fight. Mycroft Holmes does not retreat.

"Fire her. She’s got it the wrong way round. You’re under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady." Mycroft feels a rush of adrenaline as Doctor Watson looks down clenching his fist, and then back up to stare back into the void.

Oh yes. He hasn't gotten what he originally wanted, an informant, no. But there is potential for so much more. Captain John H. Watson could prove to be very useful indeed. He is now an asset to be obtained. And Mycroft is never denied. It's time. The final nail. He won't refuse, Mycroft can see the fire in his eyes. There is palpable tension.

Mycroft, eyes piercing and frigid, demands his attention. "You’re not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson. You miss it." The implication clear. _Sherlock's little puzzles won't be enough for long. What battlefield do you want, they're all yours for the choosing._ He leans in close. It's almost intimate, if he weren't radiating intimidation. He lowers his voice. These words are for Doctor Watson only. An invitation. "Welcome back."

He turns and walks away. Biding his time, ensuring his steps reverberate. Any moment now. The doctor will comply.

Another text message. Mycroft knows it's Sherlock. He doesn't need to see the tech report. It's been months since any communications have passed through the device in Doctor Watson's pocket.

If Mycroft doesn't salvage the moment, his hard work will have been in vain. He pauses and twirls his umbrella. It all appears very casual, almost absurd.

"Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson."

Mycroft wills him to respond, to say a word. Take a single step. They both stand in silence a moment, with Mycroft's back turned to the doctor. 

A single step echoes. And then another. Mycroft opens his mouth to congratulate the doctor on making a wise choice. His future will be bright. It's not until the third step lands that Mycroft understands the doctor is retreating. 

Back to the car. Back to the trenches of Baker Street. Back to Sherlock.

Squaring his shoulders, Mycroft resumes his own retreat. He only pauses when the car is out of sight. Turning back he faces the empty chair sat in the middle of the abandoned structure. Undignified as it may be, Mycroft is outraged. He considers calling back the car and taking the doctor by force to Home Base. He'd grow to appreciate the place he could have there. 

But Mycroft won't do it. He likes to at least pretend he has given his marks a choice in the matter. Doctor Watson won't be able to hold out for long. Mycroft is confident in his own ability to persuade.

He realizes, though, that he's taken his mobile into his hand and is furious with himself for the momentary weakness. Slamming the mobile down to the concrete floor with all his might, Mycroft relishes the echoes of destruction. Is giddy with it as he holds his umbrella near the middle and uses the curved handle as a mallet. Soon the indestructible handle is cracked and ruined.

A single deep breath and Mycroft looks up. His security detail steps out from the shadows; they are very prudent in diverting their gazes. Dropping the umbrella on top of the smashed mobile, Mycroft smooths the front of his suit, presses his handkerchief to his brow and his neck, and strides to his waiting car.

**Author's Note:**

> Gotta credit [Ariane Devere](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43298.html) and her meticulous transcripts for help with the dialogue.
> 
> And extra special thanks, with hugs and all sorts of other lovely things, to [notjustmom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom) for reading through the changes I had to make to [Lazarus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6325078) in order for this to work.


End file.
